Bruuuuuuuce!
by glambertcello
Summary: Bruce warned him... Tony just never listens. Science Boyfriends. Oneshot. Forever inspired by trombonists acting like idiots! T for brief language


"_Bruuuuuuce!_"

The cry from somewhere within the lab snapped the doctor's attention away from his work, make his eyes divert in the direction of the noise. It certainly didn't sound _urgent_; he was very used to knowing the difference between urgent Tony and I've-gotta-show-you-something-freaking-cool Tony. Then again, someone didn't have to be a _master_ to identify urgent Tony from every other version of Tony; it was pretty unique in that way.

"Coming!" he called, setting his pencil on top of the notepad. He'd been busy formulating some equation, but apparently Tony was more important. If he even brought up the subject, that would instantly be Tony's argument; predictable, and annoying, and _loud_.

Winding his way between machinery—almost tripping over a smaller robot in the process—Bruce Banner followed the voice, narrowing it down to the empty space that was reserved for Tony's auto mechanic repairs—or destruction, depending on which day of the week it was and how many meetings Fury had scheduled. In the middle of the cleared space was Tony, sitting on one of the cheapo chairs that schools bought only because of the price, not the comfort. He had this purely _Tony_ look on his face, which was a mixture of amusement, sarcasm, and a rare hint of intelligence.

Today, the intelligence wasn't a part of it.

Raising his arms in the air, he announced, "Look Bruce! I found a new chair!"

Bruce couldn't help but stare at him intimately. They'd been close friends for only a couple of months, and he'd become quite fond of Tony's little quirks. Such as treating little moments as being _extremely_ important. Even dire to the survival of humankind. It was just natural for Tony to be that way—so easily excited by stupid little things—and that was something Bruce loved about the man.

Probably not as much as he loved the way Tony trusted _him_, what with all his issues, but it got pretty damn close.

Amused, he asked, "Tony, did you call me from my work to show me a crappy chair?" The look of horror that appeared on the scientist's face—either from suggesting it wasn't worth it, or because he just insulted the chair—made Bruce chuckle to himself. Sometimes, Tony reminded him of a child. It was sort of an endearing trait. _Sort_ of.

Trying to prove that there was importance, the genius—or perhaps not-a-genius—felt the need to announce, "It leans back!" He instantly began leaning back and forth on it, demonstrating that it _indeed_ wobbled, although not safely at all.

"You're going to break that," the doctor pointed out, observing that there was something wrong with the back legs. He wasn't a master at building things, but he could tell when something was about to break.

Making a _spffff_ sound, Tony waved his hand in a manner to suggest that Bruce was an idiot. Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Bruce decided that was enough of a distraction, choosing to instead go back to his work.

It wasn't even five minutes later before another, "_Bruuuuuuuuce!_" echoed through the lab. This time, however, it was urgent Tony. _What did he do?_ Bruce wondered as he sprinted to the last place he saw the scientist. What he would find there would leave him doubled over.

"Quit laughing!" Tony exclaimed at Bruce, who had his hand pressed up against the wall as he leaned on it, tears escaping from the corners of his eyes as he continued to crack up. "It's not funny!"

Panting for air, he managed to get out, "I-I-I t-told you y-you would break th-that!"

Obviously far from amused, Tony crossed his arms, looking uncomfortably down at what he was sitting on. Within the few minutes Bruce had been absent, Tony had rocked back and forth in the chair enough for the back two legs of the chair to bend at awkward angles, making him shrink _at least_ six inches lower than he had been before. He looked like he wasn't even putting much of his weight on it anymore, too afraid of it completely tilting backwards.

"Okay, ha-ha, very funny. Now help me up! I'm stuck!" Jutting his bottom lip out into a pout, he tried his best to look like a convincing scientist in distress. It wasn't working for Bruce; in fact, it pretty much made him laugh harder.

"You're an idiot," Bruce voiced, but in a manner that made it sound loving. "Maybe I should just leave you there."

"You wouldn't!"

"You're right," he smirked, coming over to Tony and grabbing his hands. "I wouldn't." Pulling upwards, he helped the scientist from the chair, swiftly raising him to his feet.

But, something happened in the process. Perhaps it was just an impulse. Perhaps it was just an accident. Or, perhaps it was just some devious plan of Tony's. Bruce would never know.

Just as Tony reached Bruce's height, he came a _bit_ too far forward, placing his lips on Bruce's. It was very chaste, but enough to make Bruce feel lightheaded. When he looked at his fellow scientist, an incredulous expression crossing his face, the playboy smirked before leaning back in.


End file.
